Number One Crush
by FeathersandBittenPillows
Summary: To Bella, it was a simple no-strings-attached, one nightstand to a stranger she felt deeply attracted to. But little does she know, to Chicago police officer Edward, it meant so much more. How far is Edward willing to go to make her his? Let's just say he doesn't mind a little stalking and using the perks of his job to his advantage. Gradual obsessed Darkward.
1. One Night Stand

A/N: I own nothing to do with Twilight, clearly. I am just a super big fan. Who doesn't love Edward and Bella? ;)

Summary:

To Bella, it was a simple no-strings-attached, one nightstand to a stranger she felt deeply attracted to. But little does she know, to Chicago police officer Edward, it meant so much more. How far is Edward willing to go to make her his? He's certainly not above stalking and breaking & entering. Darkward.

Rating: Will most likely go up to an M rating; due to lemons, violence, and some bad language.

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><p><em><strong>Number One Crush<strong>_

_I would die for you,  
><em>_I've been dying just to feel you by my side,  
>to know that you're mine.<br>Violate all the love that I'm missing,  
>throw away all the pain I've been living,<br>you will believe in me,  
>and I can never be ignored. I<br>would die for you,  
>I would kill for you,<br>I will steal for you,  
>I'd do time for you,<br>I will wait for you,  
>To be close to you.<br>- Number One Crush, Garbage._

_**BPOV**_

The music is heavy metal, loud and goading, with crashing cymbals and an ear-shattering bass-line.

When I close my eyes and let the darkness underneath my eyelids swallow me whole, I lose myself in it.

I'm tossing my long dark hair back and forth around my shoulders, I'm swinging my hips from side to side, I'm flinging my arms around in the air in front of me. I'm dancing to the wild music like a young girl possessed. It makes me feel wonderful, wild and free. I'm a girl unleashed. A wailing guitar sounds off and then the drums start pulsing and crashing manically, reverberating right through to the soles of my feet, upwards.

But then as my eyes flicker open and the music finally comes to a crashing stop; I am suddenly plunged into a deep self-conscious awareness. I'm no dancing queen, I'm not good on my feet, and I can't move around the floor gracefully like they do in the ballet.

No, I'm only an insignificant, mousy-haired college student, with a white plaster cast adorning her left middle finger from dislocating it, tagging along in some heavy metal nightclub moshing to a live band for the very first time in Chicago with an older, curvier, and far more self-possessed and easy-footed close friend; Alice Cullen, my best friend and roommate in a two-person's dorm at college.

I peer from left to right and quickly realize I've become a little separated from her while letting my dancing take over and consume me, so I shimmy my way back over to her.

Through the flickering glare of the deep red lights, I find she's grinning broadly at me, not in a mean way that makes me feel self-conscious or embarrassed, but definitely in a surprised encouraging way.

She is dancing near a pale tall, skinny fair-haired guy, who is wearing a Sex Pistols band T-shirt and dark skinny jeans, with a pair of Converse sneakers. They had clearly been moshing together, because he looks a little downcast when she grabs me by the arm and starts weaving her way with me through the sea of moshers away from him.

"Oh, Bella, you were getting so into it," she laughs at me loudly through the music as a new song slowly drifts to a start; This time, the song is more easy on the bass-line and yelling. Less goading and heavy, a little like a rock ballad.

I laugh back at her, as we trudge our way through our heels to the bar to buy ourselves a refreshing drink. To my surprise, I'm already sweating underneath my arms and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hair feels like damp long ropes that cling to my bare shoulders and my neck and my face feels all flushed and sweaty.

Getting into it definitely seemed an understatement, considering.

As the female bartender at last gives us her attention, Alice orders two French Martini's, then gets started on making the lethal concoction, pouring a generous amount of gin and vodka into a metal shaker and getting her shake on, like it's a huge silvery maraca. I take the time to study the nightclub again; It's very full tonight and crowded, unsurprisingly. The nightlife in Chicago city, I heard, was very crazy. This nightclub was definitely living up to the reputation.

Alice and I usually avoid nightclubs and parties like the plague, but tonight, we decided to go out and celebrate getting through our first semester of college unscathed. Everything about this club was quite hard to swallow, frankly. It was definitely the scene for headbangers and pot-smokers, which neither of us was of course.

But somehow, despite how out of place we must have looked in our slinky dresses while everyone else mainly wore clothes consisting of leather, buckles, short skirts or tight jeans, with combat boots and sneakers rather than heels, we seemed to be fitting in nicely. We were having a great time.

As the bartender sets our rimmed Martini glasses on the counter, she asks for our I.D. Like we would actually try order a drink underage anyway. Alice hands hers first, then I do. She scrutinizes mine for a longer length than she did Alice's, then gives a grim nod and hands mine back. I blow out a relieved breathe of air; We passed her little test, and now we were free to take our drinks elsewhere to find a vacant table to sit.

I hold my French Martini very carefully as we start our way slowly through the line at the bar, searching for somewhere to sit and drink. Just as we manage our way through the busy line without any spillage whatsoever, I catch sight of him. A very handsome man, about in his early twenties or thirties or so, standing across the room from the bar, adjacent to an empty blood red pine table.

There is nothing headbanger-ish about him at all.

While I have the chance to, I give him the good-once over; my dark eyes falling straight down to the very tip of his shoes and back up again. He's wearing polished light brown loafers and he's a little over six-foot, I estimate. He also is looking very immaculate in a dark grey business suit that clings to him in a very professionally tailored fashion.

He has a very masculine face, an appealing jaw, and his hair is a sort of thick hot golden red, combed straight back and slick with hair-gel; though a few strands stand up chaotically at the sides, probably due to a hectic day of... lord knows what he does for a living. He has a nice pair of dark arched eyebrows and his lips are the most kissable shape I have ever seen in a man before. To my disappointment, I can't see what color his eyes are, considering how fluorescent the room is with the flickering lights but they were looking pretty dark shining in the half-light.

Squinting through the lights as I follow on Alice's tail, I find that he is holding a beer in one hand- a set of long sinewy fingers curling around the narrow neck of the bottle- and grasping a cell phone in the other hand that was dangling by his side.

I wonder if he was here on business, or if he was just here to let loose and enjoy the evening. He didn't seem like the type of guy to be a fan of heavy metal, though. As they say however, appearances_ can_ be deceiving.

Alice, who shoots a look behind her shoulder in my direction, follows my gaze over to his part of the room inquiringly. I'm fairly sure I hear her laugh through the piercing music. It makes me feel incredibly nervous and the insides of my stomach churn in apprehension. I deliberately turn my attention elsewhere, gluing my eyes to the back of Alice's rippling scalp of mousy brown short hair.

At long last, we find ourselves a table and sit, placing our drinks carefully in front of it. I'm finding myself unbearably parched- from both the dancing and the embarrassment of Alice having caught me out ogling the cute guy from across the room- so I grasp at my long straw and swoop my head down to chomp on the end of the plastic with my two front teeth.

I take in a few small sips and let the cool liquor sit on the bed of my tongue for a few seconds before swallowing it down. The vodka and gin produces a very bitter, yet salty tinged aftertaste, and I can't help but cringe a few times as it settles down my throat and into my stomach. Usually, I was not a heavy drinker. I barely even touched alcohol, only on special occasions that called for it- like flying home to Florida for the weekend to see my mother, in which she'd pluck out the champagne with my unexpected visit. I could already feel the small amount going straight to my head.

Every now and then, I find my eyes darting over to check and see whether the gorgeous man had left the premises or not and, luckily for me, each and every time I did, I found him still standing there; his beer bottle always dangling at his side untouched. Occasionally, he'll look across the room but his eyes never settle on anything or anyone who seems to capture his interest. What a hunk, though.

Every time he did get closer to looking in my direction, I felt my pulse would instinctively quicken and my breathing would grow shallow.

Maybe my fascination for him was obvious, because Alice was speaking again: "Bella, you should go introduce yourself to him. Clearly you want to. Don't be a pussy." _Heaven knows I sure wanted to. _

I play with my straw, avoiding her eyes. "I don't know Alice. He is probably waiting for someone. I don't want to embarrass myself."

"Bella, stop thinking so negatively about yourself," she says in outrage, a little louder than is necessary. "You look great in your dress and any guy can see that! Just go over there and give it what you've got! There is no harm done in trying, right?"

I consider in silence for a long moment, all kinds of tense. My pulse went again with its racing at the mere thought of going over to him and I felt what resembled butterflies fluttering away in my stomach with the anxiety.

I knew Alice was right. What harm done in heading over there and introducing myself to a man I found handsome and fascinating? It took me a few desperate gulps to swallow all of my Martini down and once finished, I rose from my chair.

Feeling an extra spur of boldness- though, unsure whether it was the alcohol giving me the confidence or not- I start my way towards him in my heels. I prayed internally that my hair was still neat and controlled without an ounce of frizziness in sight, and that my dark red lipstick was still on and not smeared.

It felt like it had taken me years just to reach across the room a hair's length away from where he was standing and it seemed the gentle clicking of my heels signalled my approach, because he glanced up at me from the screen of his cell phone and it was then the spur of boldness left almost suddenly, like a flame being doused by water.

I was torn in that instance, frantically debating on whether I ought to turn right around and run back over to Alice's table. Heaven knows I wanted to. But it was too late now, I realized. He had already noticed me approaching; plus it would have seemed weird and immature if I had turned right around and headed back.

My palm feels all slick as he continues staring at me and I have to wipe it down along the fabric of my dress before extending it out to him. Even then, my hand is trembling uncontrollably; I was positive he noticed, too, when his eyes darted down to take notice of what my hand was doing in front of me.

One corner of his mouth lifts into a hesitant smile as his eyes burn into my own. They feel as if they are going right... through me to the very back of my head. He's even taller than I realized; my head only reaching halfway to his shoulders, which makes me feel very... awkward.

Before I know it, he is bending down and his mouth is right near my right ear. I feel frozen and completely numb from the neck downwards, as he breathes on me, while he shouts in my ear, "Can I help you with something?"

His voice is very smooth, very impersonal; a voice I find I instantly quite like hearing.

"I-I don't know," I stammer back loudly, resolved on refusing to meet his eyes now that I found out it was just too daunting of an experience.

"You don't know?" He speaks in my ear again; this time a little chuckle slipping through with the words. It makes my skin tickle and I feel all the blood from my body rush up to my ears. What a voice he has. "There must be a reason why you came over here?" he prompts, in what sounds to me a very teasing manner. "Can I get you a drink or would you like to have a dance maybe?"

"A dance?" I breathe out. Well, that was quite unexpected. "With _you_?"

Another small chuckle slips out. "Yes, with me. If you want; no pressure."

"Now?" I wonder if he's able to pick up on how I'm only able to answer him in short phrases right about now.

"Yes now," he replies, like it's obvious.

"Oh, well. Yes, let's do it," I say quickly, with a short internal groan of embarrassment. I couldn't dance for the life of me- I only did it mainly to amuse myself, not deliberately in front of others. And definitely not in front of someone I was keen on making a good impression on.

Unexpectedly, he takes hold of my hand and slips his fingers in between mine. He turns to place his beer bottle on the vacant table beside us, and then we're off, silently to find ourselves a safe spot in the mosh area to dance. I wasn't going to kid myself; his hand felt nice while it held mine and the pad of his thumb was constantly rubbing and stroking gently across my palm in a repetitive motion that made my body feel as if it was on fire for him.

Once he found a clear spot where he felt certain we wouldn't be at risk of being jabbed into by a pair of elbows or trodden onto by a pair of heavy combat boots, he turns to peer down at me into my eyes intently. It's then that I can finally manage to make out the color of his eyes; A dark penetrating green that shines and sparkles, depending on which way the glare of the ceiling lights hit them.

He takes my other hand and we start moving uncertainly; stepping side to side around the little invisible circle we have created for ourselves. The heavy metal music was too loud and fast a tempo for our steps, so we probably looked hilarious to the invisible eye.

"What happened to your finger?" he asks loudly, fingering the cast curiously.

I blush. "I accidentally dislocated it."

"Clumsy, are we?" he teases, shooting me a very adorable smile that honestly has me melting inside. Gosh, what is wrong with me? He's adorable; is only the logical explanation I can come up with.

"Something like that, yeah."

I feel a big smile pull up the corners of my mouth as he leans down over me again.

"What's your name?" he asks, sounding as if he really wants to know.

"Bella," I call back quickly, without a second's worth of hesitation at all. I'm slowly finding my confidence, at last. "What's yours?"

"Edward." _Edward._ That makes the smile on my face even bigger; It was a nice name for a nice, gorgeous man. It seems to fit him, too.

He leans down again, speaking just the tiniest notch higher over the guitar riff that is now breaking out between us, "Turn over."

I don't think I've heard him correctly so I shake my head uncertainly, unable to grasp what he's saying.

"Turn around," he says, louder this time. He adds in a little spinning gesture with his hand.

I smile and nod. He returns the smile with a crooked one of his own, which does amazing things to the lower part of my body, then I do as he says, turning my back to him. He puts his hands on each side of my hips, strong fingers picking at the sheer material of my dress. I can't see him now, but I can certainly feel him, more than anything, behind me. He takes a step forward and then I am graced with a warm heat along my shoulders and my back as he presses his chest into me.

I gave out a moany gasp of surprise which thankfully, the heavy metal music drowned out from anyone hearing.

His hands guide my hips, shimmying them back and forth in a movement which was easy to learn and effortless to follow. I could feel my mind switching off and my body taking over to the sensations as I felt a certain part of his material covered crotch pressing into my backside. It seemed I wasn't the only one breathing heavily. His breathing was uncontrolled, too. I could tell, because of the way it was blowing on the nape of my neck in warm gushes of uncontrolled exhales.

One hand starts drifting, moving in a circular motion over the flat of my sheer-material clad stomach. Then, he slid in closer to press his crotch heavily in my thigh and I found then he was definitely in the mood for more business after this one dance. And I felt that way too, funnily enough.

My whole body seemed to be going haywire for him, as well as my libido hopping up and down wildly. While sex was something I had limited experience in, I definitely was capable of assessing that this could turn into something more serious between us than just a shared dance. I was conflicted; I certainly wasn't one to jump into bed with a random stranger but at that moment, I knew I didn't want him to be just some guy. I wanted to get to know him and, I was hoping, he would want the same too.

But as for now, I had only one goal in mind. And that was to... enjoy the moment that had presented itself. Maybe it was the delayed after effects of the drink I'd just consumed, but the butterflies in my stomach had soon been replaced with nothing more but a bubble of sheer desire and want.

With a sudden spur of courage, I find myself murmuring: "Can I spend the night at your place or you at mine?"

"Pardon?" He sounds unsure and clearly as if he hasn't heard me through the music.

I take the hand on my hip and guide it lower, just to right where my pulsing nub would be through my dress.

I think I feel it vibrate through his chest over my shoulders, as he groans a little. "You want to leave with me and I'll drive us to my apartment?" He certainly sounds startled.

Instead of answering, I release his hand and go behind my back, finding the seam of the crotch of his suit trousers where his erection is bulging. Deviously, I rub with my fingers against the tent in his trousers to show him just how much so I'd like to go back to his apartment with him. Another low groan comes from inside him, vibrating, and I feel him shudder.

"God, let's leave right now," he says in my ear, in a very controlled and demanding voice.

With a little teasing of his own, he begins kissing his way down around my shoulder-blade area. His mouth was very warm and talented, his teeth nipping and tongue swirling. I gave out a heavy sigh and a moan of my own.

I definitely was not in the mood to linger and delay it any longer. My body was literally aching for him, singing out with need.

"Yes," I pant, a little raggedly. My hand searches to find the bulge in his trousers again, desperately seeking and groping. Instead, my fingers close over something a metallic cool and heavy. Definitely not his penis, that's for sure. How disappointing.

"Fuck, Bella," he almost shouts in my ear, and before I know it, everything has come to a stand-still. I almost whimper in loss of the sexual contact when he takes a step, and I turn to look over my shoulder at him, his green eyes heavy-lidded with desire and breath quick and shallow. "You have to be careful where you touch me, sorry," he says, very agitatedly.

I blink and stare, confused. Then, as my eyes fall down onto what he is holding in his hands, it all comes clear and crashing down onto me; He has a silvery handgun in a leather holster around his belt.

_A handgun?_ Why on earth would someone have _a handgun_ with them in a nightclub like this?

My stomach flops. "Why do you have a gun?" I ask, suspicion etching through every word. "Are you a cop? Do you work for the state police, or something?"

"It's that exactly." He hesitates for a long moment and I notice some of the desire for me has left from his expression. "I work for the Chicago police department, but...enough with the introductions right now; That can wait until later." He pauses and slips a very warm arm around the crook of my neck.

Ok, I didn't know why, but the fact he was an officer of the law and that he most definitely wore a uniform and even had himself a badge made him seem more appealing physically in my eyes.

He leans down and I am unable to contain the shriek that escapes through my parted lips as his mouth closes over my ear. "Let's go to my apartment, I can't stand the delaying any longer," he says, and his voice sounds strained. "I want to make love to you all night through the early morning hours, and I _know_ you feel the same way."

I feel my cheeks redden over the soft, seductive words he has uttered, and I was positive he noticed. He's just so straight-forward and leaves nothing to doubt. It's refreshing that he doesn't want to play games. Realistically, I shouldn't have been so quick to head into an unknown strangers apartment and have sex with him, but oddly enough, I kind of find myself wanting to with him. It was so unbecoming of me. Only my body was winning out on all types of logical thinking tonight. It longed to be kissed, caressed, touched and sucked.

Oh, to hell with thinking and being the responsible one tonight.

I didn't think we'd even be able to make it into his apartment, because once we slipped into the elevator to take us up to the fifth floor of the tan brick five-storied building that housed his apartment, the kissing and touching started again. I hadn't quite experienced such pleasure from being kissed before but, like I said, his mouth was oh so talented. His hands too; His hands were restless, teasing and plucking the fabric of my dress, while he had me pressed flat against the elevator wall.

I felt I could have exploded any minute now.

Clearly, he knew how to hit all the right buttons; he kept murmuring tender words of encouragement about my body, saying how beautiful I was and how he couldn't wait to see what was left of me underneath the dress, which was really nice. No one had ever bothered to go to such lengths to say those things to me before, and just as my hands were flying up to the hair on the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the short smooth strands, I realized I hadn't said much back to share my own sentiments on just how nice I believed he looked. It was hardly thoughtful not to say anything in return at all.

"You are _so_ handsome."

His lips still against my mouth. "Pardon?" He murmurs back. He actually sounded shocked.

"You've told me how beautiful you think I am," I whisper, too embarrassed to repeat what it was he actually had said out loud, because he had really said a whole lot more than that, some words turning out rather crude. "I just wanted to let you know I think you're incredibly gorgeous, just in case you, uhm, didn't think I thought that about you."

He laughs raggedly and I feel it shake his chest. Then at true last, the elevator doors dinged to an open on his apartment floor. It couldn't have signalled at a better time, honestly.

Then we were off again, kissing whilst treading our way blindly, neither of us quite sure which way we were heading. I assumed we had come to a correct stop at the door of his apartment, though, because he disengaged his lips from mine to turn and fish his keys out of his trouser pockets. He was still breathing unevenly as he flung the door open and beckoned me in silently to enter. Funny thing was, my breathing was just as uneven and shallow.

As he switched on a light and shut his door, I found myself dying to latch onto him again, to kiss him, to tear his clothes off. It was startling; I hadn't ever felt such a raging desire to be so close to a man before sexually, to be so physically intimate.

"So if you think I'm handsome," he teases, just to make any form of polite conversation to erase the awkward silence between us, I think, "Which part of me do you find yourself most fond of?" He was teasing, and I could tell. I give out a shaky giggle.

I have to think hard. How was it possible to pick just one part of him? "Probably your eyes," I admit easily without hesitation, making a point of staring deeply into them.

"My... _eyes_?" He sounds playfully outraged.

Unable to help myself, another giggle slips out. "Yes, _definitely_ the eyes." I'm beginning to feel like a giddy school girl about to do something very naughty and incredibly exhilarating all at the same time. Maybe it's the alcohol doing it to me; the French Martini I had earlier at the nightclub? Oh, well; I suppose that was the reason for all the laughter.

"That's quite... disappointing honestly. I would have rathered you said something else instead."

I know what he is hinting at and I feel a huge surge of heat cover the whole of my face. I grin and he shoots a closed-mouth smirk my way. His eyes glint, with mischievousness. I try to make my voice as seductive as possible, as I whisper, "Well, I haven't seen _that_ part of you yet. But I'm sure once I have, I'll be bound to like it _exactly_ like the rest of you..."

Before I know it, he is kissing me again while his long arms and hands move to circle around my back, searching for the zipper of my dress. His fingers find it, and he tugs it down effortlessly. We didn't lose the clothes yet, though; We stand there for what feels almost a lifetime, going on and on with our kissing blissfully. It felt nice to not be in such an urgent rush, to be simply biding our time.

I fling my arms around his back to close off the distance of our bodies for good and lean up on my tiptoes a little to deepen the kiss. He shows his appreciation in my gesture by giving a nice little noise, and even I am unable to hide the little noises I give off myself as he begins rocking his groin forward exactly at the wet mound between my legs, causing just the right amount of hot friction through my dress. My hands rub along his shoulders helplessly; I was itching for the moment he'd lose all of his clothes myself.

"Your bedroom," I moan in desperation, unable to take the waiting any longer.

Obediently, he was steering me along while we kissed, always to the same quick tempo with our tongues while his hands massaged the back of my scalp. A light clicks on. His bedroom lamp.

Urgently, my hands run down the front of his shirt before my fingers start working with opening the buttons. It proves a lot harder than I would have deemed it necessary; My dislocated finger and the cast seeming to get into the way. I almost cry loudly in frustration but then somehow I had finally managed it.

Making sure I'm watching and that my eyes are on him every step of the way, he takes a step backwards and starts undressing, letting my eyes drink in all of him while he stands by the bed, the lamp light bathing him in a generous yellow glow. He removes his suit jacket and shirt quickly, then folds them just as quick, neatly on the bedside table near his bed. I stare at his chest, drinking it all in unapologetically. He looks even better shirtless than I imagined; He's well-built and toned, though not overly so, and a small patch of reddish-brown hair covers his chest.

I gain even more pleasure witnessing the removal of his trousers. He undoes the belt buckle on his holster and sets his gun onto the table very gently on top of his folded clothes. I discover he is wearing tight grey briefs and they do nothing to conceal the bulge supported underneath. He doesn't take them off, though; he stares at me expectantly, waiting. I gather what he is hinting at immediately and slid out of my dress without hesitation.

His eyes run down my body very slowly, taking in the black bra I'm wearing and equally as black boyleg shorts. My eyes take in all of him again, just the same. I never believed anyone could look so sexually tempting and daunting in my entire life, but I wasn't exactly complaining.

I take a small step closer toward him, and he follows suit. With the height difference and him being as tall as he was, my five-foot-four stature made me on an eye-level to his chest, just right where his hairless nipples and chest were. I decide to take advantage of the height difference between us, and make a start on his chest. I lean forward and kiss my way up and down, before finally closing my lips around one of his nipples and he grunts, very loudly. I was extremely pleased by his reaction.

"Bella, the bed," he says roughly, as if a little reminder. "If you keep this up, I'll be coming and I want to be inside you when I do. Is that okay?"

_Like he had to ask for my permission._

I nod, biting my lip anxiously while he moves to pull the bed sheets down. I stretch out my hand and run it along the covers, indulging in the feel. Silky cotton sheets. As he throws a pair of decorative pillows on the floor, I feel one of his fingers curl and tug at the elastic band of my shorts, so I pull them down and slip them off my ankles. I was too embarrassed to look him straight in the face while being pantiless, so I didn't. Still, I hear him give out a deep whoosh of air. Then, I slid into the bed first, sighing at the warmth the sheets presented and then slowly he did too. Soon, I spread my legs out widely and he was directly on top of me and the warmth his body presented as it pressed into mine was even more comforting than the bed sheets.

Once I turned my head to stare him deeply in the eyes, we continued; picking up on where we'd just left off, though him with a little more eagerness than before.

His long fingers move my hair very gently out-of-the-way and he turns his face into my neck, startling me with a trail of gentle, yet sometimes rough kisses along my throat. I exhale a moan loudly as I gaze up at the ceiling; hands and fingers tracing up the curved outline of his spine along his back, and down again. He pants my name repetitively between kisses, and the way he chants my name; it's a heartwarmingly tender and gentle caress.

Soon, unable to take the delay any longer, he positions himself directly on top of me while breathing raggedly; Hands propping himself up, ready to enter. He positions his tip right at the right spot, and then slowly he pushes in. I give out a sound, short of a gasp, and squeeze my eyes shut in surprise at the pain; I had only had sex a few times before, and that was with my ex boyfriend of a year, Jacob. I didn't suspect it would be painful again, but it was.

"Bella," he pants hoarsely. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm really good! But... shouldn't we use a condom?"

I hear him make a grunt from in the very back of his throat, a very shocked one. "Sorry, I don't know why... but I... forgot." He sounds very apologetic. There's a gentle scraping noise where I suspect he is opening the drawer near his bed. A second later, he gives out a low curse. "Why does this have to be happening to me now?" I hear him groan, very frustrated and tense.

I open my eyes and peer up at him quickly. Yeah, he is definitely frustrated, especially sexually. "What is it?" I lift my hands to cup each side of his face gently. He scowls. "What's wrong?"

He hesitates, sounding very annoyed at himself, "I_ don't_ have any."

"Oh." I was surprised. I mean, he was a very good-looking man, extraordinarily so. I figured somehow women would have gone apes over him. At the same time, I was met with a profound feeling of relief. "You don't have any? I'm sorry, I don't have any either. I don't even think to, um, buy them. As you probably noticed, this doesn't happen to me a lot."

A small smile softens his face. "Likewise. I don't go out of my way to intentionally invite a girl over to my apartment. You're the first, in fact." That was both very exciting and reassuring to know.

Before I know it, it flies out of my mouth so carelessly, that I don't even recognize myself. "Well, it's okay. We don't need one."

"Really?" He sounds stunned out of his wits yet, at the same time, as if he is pleased. Then he says something else completely unexpected, that surprises me. "Will you stay over for the night? Can I make you eggs and blueberry pancakes in the morning for breakfast?"

Though him offering to make me breakfast in the morning wasn't nearly as big a deal as I'd made it out to be, it shocked me that he would even bother to ask. I was positive this usually wasn't normal for a one nightstand. Usually, the person gets up and leaves before the other wakes, leaving no more than a scribbled 'Thank you for last night' post-it note on a pillow. I could tell then that he wanted this to become something _more_.

"Yes," I reply, snaking my arms around him; fingers digging softly into the bare skin on his warm muscular shoulders, "You have _no idea_ how nice sleeping over and having breakfast with you sounds, Edward."

Little did I know, just how much one little decision- having spontaneous sex with this gorgeous stranger, and tomorrow morning, accepting an innocent early hearty breakfast with him- would change my life forever in unimaginable ways.

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><p><strong>Does this sound like something you will be interested in more of? It's a little early to tell, but Edward will be quite manipulative and obsessed with our Bella. Good times, I'll say ;)<strong>

**Please review, it would really encourage me. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Tracking Her Down

**A/N; I own nada to do with Twilight. And I won't anytime soon.**

**Whoa, thank you all so much for the fast and encouraging responce with the first chapter. I truly am grateful and hope you will enjoy this chapter equally in turn. I'm hoping there aren't too many mistakes, I don't have a Beta reading. And maybe I should... So hoping you will overlook any drastic mistakes.**

**Enjoy the makings of a besotted Copward. Feel free to tell me your thoughts on how it's progressing. Even if there is something you think I need to fix or a question, constructive criticism and free speech is encouraged lol :-)**

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><p>Chapter Two- Next Morning Unease<p>

I open my eyes and, for a moment there, I forget where I am. I turn my head and find a table near my side of the bed. Clothes, neatly folded. Holster cushioned on top, with a... _handgun_. Ah, that's it. I was in his room. Edward the Chicago cop.

I toss over on my pillow slowly. I thought he would be sleeping still, worn out after last night. Only he wasn't. He was wide-awake, short brown hair splayed out on the top of his pillow and hands tucked behind his head serenely. A second ago, he had been fixated on the ceiling of his roof. Now, he was watching me now that he knew for sure I was awake.

"Morning," he says gently. Then, he rolls onto his side and supports his head on a lean. He is shirtless underneath the covers but why that still surprised me after last night, I had no idea. "How are you feeling after last night?" At least he was considerate enough to ask.

I thought for a moment, taking inventory. I felt a little tender... _down there_, but perfectly fine as far as everything else was concerned. "Great," I reply, as a wide smile stretches across my face. And I meant it.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask you about it last night." I feel nervous, as he rolls onto his stomach and starts tugging the covers down so they bunch up around my feet. The cool air floating around his room leaves me refreshingly cool."I hope it won't offend you, I'm just merely curious," he starts cautiously, like he didn't want me getting touchy over whatever it was he felt the need to ask about.

He guides a hand over my stomach and a fraction lower. My stomach flopped at the intimate spot he was touching, but then a second later, I understood what he was referring to. Near my pelvis area, I had a scar. He touched the shiny curved line with his thumb and a hot heat flashed over my skin; It took me a second to discover that I wasn't wearing underwear. How... indecent. He couldn't care less about the exposure of my private parts.

"What happened here? I noticed it when I was... down there."

Oh my. There goes the redness coloring my cheeks again.

"I got caught on a barbwire fence when I was a little girl, believe it or not."

He looks shocked, yet the faintest bit impressed. "How did that happen? How old were you?"

"Well, I was about this short"- I gesture with my hands and he eagerly follows the movement with widened eyes- "and I was playing with my dad at a park across from the house where I lived when I was younger. I used to love climbing things all the time, and my dad used to call me his little monkey."

He smiles widely over that, amused.

"We were playing hide-and-seek and I thought I should climb over the fence and hide in the bushes. That way he would never find me." His smile grew for some reason. "So, long story short I tried to climb over the fence and I scratched myself with a sharp thread of wire that was poking out. And then there was a lot of blood so I had to-"

"-go to the hospital and get four stitches," we finish together. _Okay, that was funny. We are finishing each other's sentences now? Too crazy._

I gape down at him in disbelief. "How'd you know how many stitches I required?" Then I add, teasing him, "Don't tell me you were there!"

He chuckles at my teasing. "No, I wasn't there," he explains quietly. "But with my job, it's not unusual for incidents to happen where a partner, or a perpetrator injures themselves, where you have to escort them to the hospital. I've seen many perpetrators requiring procedures for injuries quite like yours."

I'm too interested all of a sudden. "Do people in your line of work climb over barbwire fences a lot?" I ask, half-serious.

"No, not really," he says readily. "But there has been a few incidents where we've had to let the dogs on someone who tries to escape an arrest." His eyes brighten in excitement over the subject. "We have these amazingly huge German Shepard dog's, which we set loose if someone's trying to avoid an arrest. They go wild; biting their legs and attacking them."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous, though? I mean, what if the dog seriously hurts them?"

I can't help the shudder that ripples through me.

"That's my point," he shrugs, matter-of-factly. "Every time I let a dog loose on them, when they're resisting my arrest, there's always bloodshed." With this settling in, I come to the conclusion that his job must be horrible. "There is always a torn limb or a gash. But that's just the way it is. You have to get used to it and eventually, you do. You adapt to it..."

"I don't think I could ever get into the law enforcement field, then," I whisper in shock. He laughs softly.

"No, you _definitely_ have to be strong-stomached," he replies casually. "Strong emotionally, as well as physically... which, not to be boastful here, explains why I had so much stamina last night."

I can't tell if he's joking or not, but then as I catch his eye, he throws a wink at me. Yeah, he's definitely playing around. Not that he wasn't energetic and passionate last night, though.

"Oh, aren't we Mr. Modest?" I joke.

"Well, I did get an Outstanding on my physical examination, so it's only fair." I huff out a laugh at that smug comment.

But then I jerk a little, as he unexpectedly presses his mouth against the scarred skin on my side. It was quite a tender sweet action that I was positive had my pulse rate inclining. I thought, with most guys, they'd find something so insignificant as a scar, a major turn-off.

In high school, I even went through a funny period of not wearing a bikini during swim lessons, because I was nervous over what people- young boy's especially- might think. It was aware to me then, that Edward wasn't grossed out by it at all. If anything, fascinated and impressed. It made my confidence in my body soar.

"Doesn't that turn you off, though?" I find myself asking before I can control myself, self-consciously.

"Doesn't _what_ turn me off?" He doesn't understand.

"You know, the scar."

"Not at all." His eyes look deeply into mine as he says it, like he wants me to know he is being completely sincere. "Actually the fact that you have a battle scar makes you _all the more_ of a sexy and interesting vixen in my eyes."

I blush, beyond flattered by his words. But then I was eager to brush it all off. "I wouldn't call it a battle scar. How I got it is lame."

I must have said too much, been too hard on myself that it made all my insecurities blatantly apparent, because there is a long moment of silence after that. Just when I'm starting to think my insecurity traits had now officially defined me as unattractive in his eyes, he speaks again.

"I think I have a way to show you just how much I appreciate your body," he says in a very suggestive tone.

He starts running his hand up along my thigh, rubbing calloused knuckles against my bare flesh. But unfortunately for me, I had to draw the line there-

"You know, it's _very_ tempting but I actually have a busy schedule this morning at college."

His hand stills in its eager roaming.

"Not even a_ little_ bit of morning sex?" He breathes warmly against my skin, sounding stilted.

"No, definitely not. We had an agreement for a shared breakfast though, remember?" Besides, I had to be in the college premises at around ten thirty. It was all ready eight o'clock. We didn't have much time left.

"So your mouth" (here, he leans in and kisses me, a quick warm peck that was oh so tempting not to respond to) "says one thing, but your body" (he leans down to kiss my shoulder-blade at this) "is saying another. Which is it?"

Still, I had my resolve firmly intact. "Listen to the mouth. The mouth always knows best."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, totally sure." He sighs and straightens up. I didn't want him getting the wrong impression, though. "Sorry," I add, truthfully.

He expels a deep breath. "Right, sure."

"Really, I _am_, I think I like you a lot," I say to him.

I wasn't a mind reader, of course not, but I could tell by his expression he was a little put-out and wounded over my refusal for another early morning round in the sack. I could tell he liked me; well, surely he did. Because why else would we be here in his apartment, with me curled up in his bed with him underneath the silken sheets after quite an amazing moment of passionate and exciting sex last night?

"And last night was great and I'm _hoping_ you feel the same way."

At the uncertainty wavering my voice, he smiles ruefully. "How would I not feel the same way? Last night was quite possibly most amazing experience of my life."

I thought he was merely saying that to get a few brownie points, but it had me overwhelmingly pleased. It was about the most sweetest thing a person of the opposite sex has ever said to me in months and I felt a trickling heat redden my cheeks.

But then I had to keep a hold of myself and grasp reality by the horns here. "With that said, I've had few bad experiences with relationships in the past, which I think I should take as a warning to slow down. I can't exactly say that I went slow with you last night. I'm not usually a girl who has one night stands with a stranger."

That makes him pause as he thinks it through. "I'm completely the same, though. I've never done this before- invited a woman back to my apartment for the night- without even knowing so much as what her name is."

"Well, I guess it's a new thing for the both of us." I was pretty damn sure on that. "I'm not quite sure what's meant to happen now. Do I just get dressed, have breakfast with you and leave? Go on and live life as if this never happened?"

"When we made the decision to come back to my apartment last night, to make love... going on as if it's never happened wasn't what I had in mind." I'm surprised; Did he actually have interest in me enough that he wanted it to expand into something... more? Well, I did gather as much last night. He looks unsure, as he meets my eyes. "Is that what you were hoping to happen? Just two random strangers who share a late evening together. That's it?"

I bite the inside of my cheeks, deliberating in silence for a long moment. I didn't know what I wanted exactly. Well, there was one thing...

"How about we skip the breakfast?" I ask, a little shy.

"Ah." He gives me a wide smile that does amazing things to my skin. Everything tingles, especially from down in the lower regions, if I'm to be unabashedly precise. "Now you're _ready_ to listen to your body and give in?" Just as he finishes the last part, he goes in to kiss me.

I let him win for a minute or two, because really, he was a wonderful, experienced kisser surprisingly and it was harder to resist than I initially thought. But somehow, I manage a moment later. He is not happy about that and he groans in protest.

It was nice to be wanted sexually. Surprisingly empowering for an everyday college girl, who had limited experience with all and everything to do with the opposite sex.

I feel a smile pull up the side of my mouth. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of coffee," I tell him, playfully commanding. "Early morning caffeine-deprived Bella is not a woman you want to cross."

And I needed it bad; coffee was my only weakness, I think. Without it, I turned into a raging fiend of a woman who everyone ought to take heed and not cross.

Suddenly, he clicks it all together and slides out of bed. "Fair enough," he says, groaning deeply as he stretches out his arms, muscles cracking and biceps bulging. "Nice diversion tactic."

I stare after him as he trudges his way out of the room, barefoot and almost naked in boxer shorts. The sight is so tempting that I have to deliberately avert my eyes.

I crash back onto the bed and find myself grinning widely to myself. Yesterday, I was a meek girl who could have only dreamed of this and now, here I was, after having pulled up my big girl panties last night and taken my attraction for him into my own capable hands and did something about it. Now I could understand what therapists preached, about taking matters into your own hands and living every moment fully like it was to be your last.

And I had no regrets whatsoever in doing that.

I lounge around for a while indulgently, examining his room. And then I remember. "Oh shit."

_College._

A lecture from my class professor in roughly one hour and thirty-five minutes. Before that time, I had to get to my dorm and gather my study notes and textbook, as well as change into a fresh pair of clothes for class. Realistically, I couldn't spend all day lying around waiting for my one-nighter victim to get back to me with a steaming invigorating mug of freshly brewed coffee.

Like a mouse on crack, I fling the sheets off myself and start scooping up my dress and heels, which lie in an excusing pile on the floor near the bed. _You naughty slut_, the pile screams.

And then I realize I've lost my underwear, it's not in the pile or anywhere else so frantically I'm searching and searching around his room- in my desperation, I even look underneath his bed at one stage- until I just give up and try to accept and talk myself calmly into going panty-less until I can manage to get to my shared dorm before class starts.

At least I had my bra; That ought to count for something.

As I slip on my bra and dress, I can't help but feel extra naughty slipping into last night's clothes. Plus, a little dirty.

I somehow manage to find my way into the kitchen to where Edward is, at work on my coffee and I smile to myself when I discover he's not as naked anymore. He had the gall to put on his old dress shirt from last night, which is all wrinkly down the back and in dire need of an iron. But the boxers are still on.

Wordlessly, he turns and hands me my cup of coffee. I hold it underneath my nose and inhale in the steam slowly. Even so much as the smell of coffee tended to work wonders in waking me up. "Thank you," I sigh in relief, after an eventual small sip.

"No problem."

He stand next to me and crosses his arms over his chest, still managing to look amazingly dignified in short stripey boxers that showed off lean and long hairy legs, and suddenly I found myself wondering how he would respond if I told him to lose them.

And then my mind was off, conjuring up how he looked naked without any clothes on last night. And then those mental flashes turned into deviant fantasies. Edward pushing me up against his kitchen counter and propositioning me with oral, Edward tearing my clothes off and handcuffing me to the refridgerator door in his kitchen, suckelling my breasts with his mouth. Edward... I think you get the picture.

But time was gradually flying and I had to be responsible. I couldn't exactly be late to my lecture.

I finish my coffee and rinse it underneath the tap before setting it carefully in the sink. My stomach was full of butterflies, with uncertainty on how to approach and initiate the farewell after last night. It seemed he had his own way in mind in regards to the pair of us parting. I go to face him, only to find he was already standing behind me and his face was intent with a knowing look I could not misplace. It was exactly like the look he had before while we were in bed, that 'How about one more round?' tempting look.

"So, I guess this is goodbye. You can tell me straightaway if you don't want this, then I'll back off," he says uncertainly. "I just want to say goodbye properly." He takes a wary step closer, so that his face is looming in my entire world and raises a hand to gently cup the side of my face. And then, as believed, he was kissing me.

He never backed off, simply because I couldn't say a word. And really, I didn't want to. Not with the way he was kissing me.

When the height difference was becoming troublesome for the both of us, he picked me up easy and plopped my backside down onto the counter behind us, while my legs wrapped around him. My breathing was like I had ran a marathon, and his matched mine, while he kisses my lips, the side of my neck, down the curve of my throat, everywhere.

Then he pauses to bury his face in my hair and he inhales slowly, like he's testing out perfume or something. I accidently give out a low moan and slip my arms around his neck.

"Before I forget, should we exchange numbers?" he pants raggedly, and I realize that's most definitely a good idea. Smart man, thinking ahead of time.

His hands are all over my thighs, up and over the skirt piece of my dress and immediately I feel like I could die right then, when he works out I'm pantyless.

"Oh," he cries in surprise. "Bella?"

"Oh, yes, exchange numbers," I exclaim belatedly, in an embarrassed lustful daze.

At this, he cracks up loudly. "You're not wearing your underwear!"

A little frustrated, I wiggle closer to the edge of the counter so our heaving bodies are more sandwiched together and lean down to slip my hand underneath the elastic banding of his boxer shorts. That shuts his laughter up. I find him and stroke his warm length, and the act alone seems to send him into overdrive.

"Oh," he groans, stunned. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

But I did want to. Lord knows I wanted to.

I rub and rub until at last he is ready for his release, and he sags against me and gives out a ragged moan. His eyes are squinted tightly closed over meeting his release and, after that, everything is still and quiet, aside from our equally as exhausted breathing.

When I hear his breathing eventually even out, he mumbles breathlessly against my forehead, "Twice in less than ten hours. Bella, if that's anymore reason that we're destined to spend the rest of our lives together forever, then I don't know what is."

I was extremely pleased I knew enough on how to turn a man on

"So, did you still want to exchange numbers?" I mumble, flushed.

"Absolutely," he says, after taking an extra moment to recover. "More than anything. But let me just find a pen and paper first."

We stay close together for several minutes, until Edward separates from me drowsily and paces the kitchen, searching far and wide for something he can write my number on.

Unfortunately my eyes caught the time illuminated on the stove top. Forty-five minutes to get home, get changed into clean clothes, get all my shit and head to my locker. I didn't have the time to sit around, at all.

There wasn't enough time for me to wonder whether it would insult him or not. He had disappeared off into another room, keen in his search, so I never got to say goodbye. But I figured getting him off in his kitchen would have been satifying enough, as far as farewells go.

Hurriedly, I slip off the counter, hurry to the door without managing to collide into him, pause and bend to tread into my heels carefully, and leave. I got to the dorm at college twenty minutes later after catching the subway to find Alice in bed. She jolts awake and sits up as soon as I enter, blinking up at me, half-asleep.

"Morning," I whisper, then crouch down to kick off my heels. I push them underneath my single bed, out-of-the-way with my foot.

"Where have you been?" Alice asks slowly, mid-yawn. "I was_ so_ worried about you! You disappeared last night without a word and I had to catch a cab back here all by myself."

I'm already trying to work out the tangles of my hair with my hair-comb by the time I look over at her in apology. She's sitting up, perched on her elbows. Her light brown eyes are running over last night's dress with an air of drowsy suspicion.

"Bella, _why_ are you wearing the same clothes?" she asks, rather innocently. Bless her sweet soul.

I grimace and peer down at last night's clothes myself. What she doesn't know though, is that I'm not wearing underwear, that somehow my panties were lost last night after me and Edward, a complete stranger, got hot and heavy in bed.

"You sleep over at someone's house?"

I had to tell her the truth sooner or later. I turn and face my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed to make the big reveal easier and somewhat less daunting. "Actually, do you remember that cute guy I was interested in last night? The one you said I should risk it and introduce myself to him?"

"Uh-huh," she mumbles. She remembers, thank goodness. It made this a lot easier then.

"Well, we went back to his apartment and we slept together." I don't know what her face looks like at my admission, but I do hear the gasp and muffled giggle. "He is a cop who works for the Chicago Police Department and he seemed to really like me." Why I was throwing in the fact that he worked for the Chicago police, I had no idea. It just felt nice; being about to get it all off my chest and gush about him to her.

"Are you going to go out on a date together?" she asks, definitely sounding interested and delighted for me. "Did you exchange cell numbers or anything, so you can keep in contact?"

No, damn it. We hadn't and that was a total bummer.

I thought about the light-hearted conversations we had shared together, as well as how I had learned a lot more about his job as a police officer, which interested the heck out of me, if I'm completely honest. We had gotten along so well, not just physically in bed but intellectually.

And I had totally spoiled a special thing that could have developed had I followed through and waited to get his number or exchange mine. I immediately feel horrible for leaving, like that. For being impatient. But surely he would understand that since I was a student, there were certain time limitations. Right?

But then something deep inside of me told me he wouldn't be taking it so lightly to heart, because as I scrambled my way into the auditorium early to flip open my folder and prepare my notes for today's lecture, my phone vibrated in my jean pocket.

I didn't know how he had gotten my number since I hastily left without revealing it, but somehow he had. Perhaps being a police officer presented you special access with all of that private detail stuff?

I hide my cell phone underneath my desk so the chemical science professor, Mr. Banner, wouldn't catch it. The use of cell phone during a lecture was treated as a very serious, punishable offense according to Mr. Banner. He had always warned us of that before every start of the lesson. Initially I got to thinking it was Alice, my roomy, prying for more details on how amazing last night was. But it was from him, no if's or buts about it. I felt the color drain from my whole face, as I read it:

_You left early this morning. Didn't get chance to exchange numbers but I found it at work in the database anyway, Isabella Marie Swan. Hope you won't mind._  
><em>Thanks for last night and this morning. I'll be thinking about it and you a lot. Oh and if you were looking for your underwear, I found them. <em>_If you don't need them back I would be happy to keep them as a momento. They smell like you. Bonus. Hoping to hear from you soon._  
><em>- E XXX<br>_


	3. Stalking?

_**Hey guys.**_

_**I am so so sorry it took me so long to update! I couldn't remember my password and life has been so busy and hectic for me. Hopefully if you're still interested, I can update more frequently and get into routine again? I promise I won't be leaving you hanging so long again! So sorry!**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Three<strong>_

After my lecture, I meet Alice for lunch, which is something we always ordinarily do. I can't seem to get the text Edward sent me out of my head, it's almost distracting to the point where I find it difficult to actually tune into Alice's conversations: It was super awkward, the fact that I left my underwear at his house. I had a few hunches that I did, only I wasn't expecting him to keep them as a souvenir of some sort. Maybe he was just joking about that? Maybe he was hoping to be a little playful and sexy by it? Hope so.

I'm also faced with the dilemma on how to respond to his odd text. I mean, what _am I supposed_ to say? I know the decent thing to do is say that I had a wonderful time spent last night with him, because I honestly did. I just wasn't sure how to write it in a text.

"Yoo-hoo, Bella?" Alice says loudly, going so far as to clap her hands unpleasantly near my face. I must have zoned out again on her.

"Sorry," I say, laughing nervously. "What was that? What were you just saying?"

"God, what is with you? Why're you acting so funny?"

I know I should probably tell her about the text, because she's my closest friend, and I'm meant to tell her practically everything. But I really don't know where to start. "Sorry, Al. I just got a text this morning while in class."

"Oh, from who?" Her smile widens. "From that hunky cop you spent the night with?"

"Yeah, from him, Alice. I just don't know what to reply back."

"Show me what he said!" She reaches over with her hand across the table eagerly. "I'll help you!"

I have my reservations on that, because the text is a bit embarrassing from him. But I decide, what's the worst that can happen? Al knows everything about dating, since she is more experienced than me. A little reluctantly, I reopen the text and hand my phone to her so she can read it, watching her face nervously. She actually cringes. "Whoa, that's a bit full-on," she laughs in disbelief. "But at least you know he's totally hot for you!"

"You think he's interested in seeing me again?" I ask her uncertainly.

"Yes, he totally fucking is interested. Does he need to be anymore obvious? He practically tracked down your number! It's a huge sign he's interested in seeing you again!"

"You don't think its kind of creepy that he somehow got my number, Alice?"

"No! I mean, he's a cop! It basically explains everything! I can see why you're a bit freaked-out by the underwear memento-thing, though..."

"Should I text him back?" It's mostly what I'm so indecisive about. "I know it isn't usually something I ordinarily do, in sleeping with a guy so suddenly. Do you think it was kind of... slutty of me?"

"No, don't be stupid. It's not slutty at all. Heaps of people do it in this day and age. It isn't a big deal, Bella."

"What should I say back to him?"

"Well, are you interested in seeing him again? Because if you're not, then just don't reply to his text and forget all about it?"

I think that through very seriously for a moment. Did I want to see Edward again? I definitely did want to. God, even just thinking about his face, his smile, makes me feel all strange inside. Last night was a wonderful experience for me. Why wouldn't I want to see him again and actually get to know him?

"I think I do want to see him again."

"Then text him back," she says simply, handing my phone back to me.

My thumb starts to shake as it hovers over the keys. _I'm so experienced on how to deal with this that I'm terrified of knowing what to text him back! I'm so ridiculous!_

"Say that you had a wonderful night too and that you're interested in seeing him again," Al goads me on happily. "Or you can just, you know, write 'Thanks' and wait for him to make the first move in asking you out to see each other again?"

"I think I might just do that, Al," I decide, a little reluctantly. What if he is the one that doesn't want to see me again, and then he's forced into it because I'm asking him? Waiting for him to make the first move in asking me out definitely sounds the right way to go. Steeling myself, I text him back quickly to get it over with. I tell him thanks for a wonderful night and leave it at that. It's so unbelievably nerve-wracking just even simply writing a small little text, though.

When I'm done, I set my phone on the table and pick up my spoon, stirring the latté I've ordered. Alice gives me a sly little grin. "There, see? It wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I don't know," I breathe out. "That was pretty hard, Al."

"Well, now you just need to relax and wait for him to text you back. Easy."

"Easy? So you say..."

"So... how was it?" she asks, in a way that tells me she's prying for embarrassingly intimate details regarding the sex we had last night.

"It was good," I manage simply.

"_Just good_? Or _way_ better?"

"God, Alice," I grumble in exasperation. "What else do you want me to say? It was good. I enjoyed myself, and he seemed to enjoy it as well."

"How was he in the size department?"

"_Alice_!"

"Oh, come on, Bella." She flashes an innocent smile in my direction. "I'm interested!"

"No, you're a pervert, Alice."

"Was he... big down there?" Since I know she isn't planning on dropping the conversation anytime soon, I just relent and let her win.

"He was... reasonably sized. I don't know how to explain shit like that, Alice."

"Did he, you know, give you an orgasm?"

_Jesus._ "Yes, he did, Alice. But how is that any of your business?"

"I'm just glad, that's all," she says, sounding pleased. "I want to make sure a man treats my best friend right."

"And giving me an orgasm is the most important thing?"

"Well, yeah. It is to me. Now that that part of it has been revealed, I think I've got to be getting going... " She glances down at her wristwatch. "As much as I would love to just sit here all day, trying to get all the juicy details out of you, I can't. I've got class to head off to!" She stands up and throws her arms around me. "So glad you're finally getting some!"

"Oh god, Alice. Can you be anymore embarrassing?"

"Just tell me if he ends up texting you back, okay?"

"I will, Alice. See you later. Have fun in class."

"Yeah, right," she laughs. "See ya."

I watch her leave, then pick up my coffee, taking a big sip. Alice has always been a bit too concerned over my sex life, or mostly my lack thereof. While I can't deny I'm happy things are starting to look up for me, as far as dating and sex was concerned, I felt telling your friend details on the guy's penis length was oversharing in its basic form. It was super inappropriate, but then again, that's just my friend Alice. She's always asking inappropriate questions. I catch myself staring down at my phone, almost begging it to go off to tell me Edward has ended up texting me back, then I scold myself for being so desperate. I think this was what I always hated the most about starting to see someone: You get so nervous and end up staring at your phone constantly, wondering if they were going to end up calling you or texting.

Picking up my phone, I consider just turning it off so I can't keep waiting expectantly for it to vibrate. Just as I'm getting close to doing it, I catch someone slide into the seat across from me at the table. I look up, and feel my heart start hammering away lethally. Holy fuck. How did he even know I was here?

It's him! Edward the cop!

I mightn't even begin to know how he somehow tracked me down, but he did surprisingly. This little café wasn't the easiest to find, nor was it the most popular. So how did he get here? He looks just as great as I remembered from this morning, but even more so; all due to the fact he is wearing his cop uniform. I don't understand how a guy like him couldn't get laid on a nightly basis: Wouldn't the uniform be an aphrodisiac enough for any woman? He's wearing dark tinted sunglasses, so I can't see his eyes properly. But the smile he is wearing for me is dazzling.

"Gee," I laugh out loud nervously. "You scared me half to death just then!"

"Sorry," he says quietly. "I was just passing through here and then, just on lucky coincidence, you ended up being here as well."

"Yeah, talk about lucky coincidence," I mutter under my breath. Why am I feeling so awkward around him? Oh, that's right. Probably because I went back to his place and we had sex last night. How can anyone not feel even remotely awkward? "So... uh, you were just passing through, huh?"

"I was actually. I just got your text in fact."

"And are you sure you're not stalking me?" I ask, mainly being playful. At least, I _think_ so.

"Stalking you?" he repeats, laughing nervously. It relieves me to know I don't seem to be the only one that's feeling nervous. "I think that would be wishful thinking on your part."

"No way. There isn't anything _even remotely sexy_ about some guy stalking you, no matter how... handsome he is!"

"Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?" he asks uncertainly. "Or if you're waiting on someone, I could just keep you company until they arrive?"

"My company has already left," I assure him. "So, it's cool if you want to sit with me for a while. I don't have to get to class until in half an hour anyway."

A waiter drifts over to us, and Edward orders a black coffee. I can't seem to begin to tear my eyes away from him- I just can't believe he is actually here. How funny is it that we both ended up being in the same place, at the same time, though. Once his coffee arrives, we finally get to talking again. Much to my luck, he starts with the conversation, not me. I haven't the slightest idea where to begin on talking to him.

"You never told me what you study?"

"I'm studying literature at the moment. I like to read." Even as I say it, I know it makes me sound super boring. But it's the truth, and I see no sense in lying and trying to better myself for him. Besides, we have already slept together, haven't we?

"What do you like reading?" he asks, sounding interested and not turned off in the slightest, _thank God_.

"Mostly any old book I can get my hands on. I'm not picky when it comes to books. I like reading them all."

"Do you like heavy metal music?" He throws at me suddenly. For a moment there, I'm completely confused on why he's asking. But then I sort of belatedly remember we met at a club last night where they play heavy metal music to the point of obsession.

"Not really. I can't really stand heavy metal music. Do I look like the type who is a big fan of that kind of music?"

"Not really. I don't like heavy metal music, either."

"Then why did you turn up at that nightclub last night?" I ask, without thinking. I sure hope it isn't rude of me to ask, but I'm truly curious. "That nightclub is kind of infamous for playing mainly heavy metal."

He smiles at me broadly and I feel myself redden. "I don't know. I guess I just went there out on a whim to see what all the fuss is about. One of my brothers recommended the place to me, and I was looking for somewhere to unwind at after a long day at work. Why were _you_ there?"

"I guess I went there for the same kind of thing. My friend Alice told me we should head out there. I don't go out much to nightclubs normally, so I decided why not? It was a weird place, though, wasn't it? Half the people in there were wearing combat boots and old band T-shirts."

"Yeah, it _was_ pretty strange," he agrees, taking a quick sip of his coffee. My eyes are drawn to his mouth for some reason. Even him doing something so normal as drinking seems appealing to me for some strange reason. Maybe I'm crazy? "That's mainly why I found myself wondering why _you_ were there. You didn't seem much like the type for heavy metal?"

"And I'm _not_, really."

"You were too beautiful to be in a place like that. I didn't get it."

I have to avoid his eyes at that. _I'm too beautiful? Really?_

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" I ask, hoping to sound flirtatious myself. It seems to work, because his smile widens.

"You caught me," he says, utterly deadpan. "I _am_ trying to flirt with you, but that's kind of obvious, isn't it? I mean, it's obvious I really like you, especially after last night when I brought you back to my place and we ended up doing what we did."

_God, I can't believe how straight-forward he is! He likes me!_

"I guess it's pretty obvious then that I like you back," I tell him, trying to keep up with him for all it's worth. He doesn't seem to care about coming off too strong, so why should I? "I meant what I said; I'm usually not the type of girl who just suddenly heads home to a guy's place for sex."

"I can't deny I was pissed off to find you had left," he says, and there's no playfulness in his tone of voice whatsoever: He truly was pissed to find I had left so abruptly the way I had, without even so much as a goodbye. But I can totally understand that. It was crappy of me.

"And that's fair," I say. "I don't blame you because it was real stupid of me to leave the way I had. But if you haven't already noticed by now, I can be a little impulsive in my decisions. Since I've never done this before, I wasn't so... sure what to do or say."

"Well, it's all in the past now, isn't it? I managed to track you down."

"You sure did," I laugh, feeling funny. "How did you manage to do that anyway? I thought you said you weren't stalking me?"

"Okay, so maybe I _was_ stalking you_ a little_. I had an amazing time last night. I couldn't let you slip-away so easily, could I?"

He still hasn't exactly explained how it was so easy for him to get my number, though. "How did you, though?" I ask seriously. "Or is that a perk that comes along with your profession? You get easy access to people's phone numbers?"

"Something like that, yeah." Edward takes another sip of his coffee and, just like that, my eyes are fixated on his mouth again. God, why am I being so stupid? It _is_ a lovely mouth though, and he sure knows what to do with it- knowing _especially_ from last night's experience. He knew all the ways to kiss me and really get me going. Maybe some men are just naturally good at it? "When are we going to see each other again?" he asks, licking his lips.

"Oh, aren't you persistent?"

"I guess I am. I know how to work hard to get what I want."

"And what are you wanting?"

"I think it's obvious what I'm wanting, Bella." Startling me, he slides a hand over the table and strokes the back of mine with his thumb. It affects me, in a crazy way. I feel like I'm about to almost spontaneously combust, as cliché as that is. "I hope I'm not being too forward, but I want to see you again. I want to get to know you better and, maybe, if anything happens between us, we could take this further?"

I'd be a liar to say I didn't want to get to know him better. I most certainly did want to. "Well, I'd like that as well. I don't think it's too forward in you saying that. It's just being refreshingly honest."

"Great. How about... tomorrow night then?"

_Tomorrow night! So soon!_

"Tomorrow night sounds good."

"Great, then. How about we go out to dinner?"

Suddenly I feel like a total beaming idiot. I know there's a huge smile on my face, and he probably can see it himself. But when I nervously bring my eyes up to look him in the eye, he doesn't seem put-off by it one bit. My over eagerness doesn't seem to repulse him. "Tomorrow for dinner sounds great," I manage, sounding ridiculously breathless. "There's this nice restaurant near here where they serve really good food. They serve Thai food, I think."

"Sounds great. I'm looking forward to it." He gets to his feet and comes over to me, leaning down. I think he's going to kiss me on the lips, so I make sure his meet them easily. But when he kind of moves away to kiss me on the cheek instead, he leaves me feeling like a total fool. _Why am I being such an idiot? I was never this awkward last night! _"Thanks for the pair of underwear you left me, by the way," he says, mostly joking, I think. "I appreciated the gesture."

"It wasn't intentional," I mutter, feeling myself redden even more. "I really couldn't find them in your house."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to find them, because I took them when you weren't looking."

I laugh, although I'm not entirely sure if he's joking or not. But when I peer up at his face shyly, it occurs to me that he's being dead-serious. _Okay, so he... took my underwear on purpose? Who does that?_ I catch myself ogling him as he starts walking away from the café. He's a very strange man, that one. Oddly enough, I find it sexy.

**I hope you're still interested in reading the story? How do you find this Edward and Bella? Is Edward sending you creepy vibes?**


	4. A Dinner Date

_**A/N: I own nothing to do with Twilight. I'm just messing with the characters.**_

_**I want to thank you all so much, and especially for the recommendation on A Different Forest. That was lovely to learn, and I appreciate it. This is slow sailing so far, just Edward and Bella getting to know each other. But his true character will eventually come to the surface. Bella sees nothing suspicious at all. Hoping you enjoy this one. Thank you!**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Four<strong>_

The rest of the days seem to go quickly and, before I know it, I'm getting ready for my date with Edward this evening at a Thai restaurant. The last time I went on a date had been probably seven months ago, and I have never really liked going on them; It's awkward and hard to know what to say to your date, and it's the main reason why I am almost dreading it with Edward tonight. Hopefully, he'll be just as nervous as I am, though.

Alice helps me get ready and gives me a little pep-talk on the importance of being yourself. I really wish it's that easy, though. Being myself means I won't be very interesting. My life is basically one huge study session. I don't go out much. I don't date much. Edward coming into my life these past few days has been basically the first bit of action I've had with a guy in quite a while.

Alice helps straighten my hair and fixes my make-up for me; Eyeliner, mascara, red lipstick, she helps me do it all. I hope I don't look overdone, but Alice assures me I look great.

"Try to relax, okay?" she tells me soothingly. "You already know he likes you, so you don't have to try so hard to impress him. Plus, you've already slept together. It helps."

"You sure this isn't too much for a date?" The dress I'm wearing is skin-tight, sleeveless, and black. Alice even suggested I wear matching black stilettos. I feel overly dressed.

"No, you look amazing. And you better leave so you're not late," she says. "Lateness isn't a very good sign."

I have a little black purse, which I throw on over my shoulder. It has everything I need inside it; I.D, lipstick, money. I'm definitely good to go, so I hug Alice and she wishes me luck before I get out on the street in the dreadful heels I'm wearing. I haven't mastered walking in heels, and I feel ridiculous as I wobble on the sidewalks.

I feel like people are judging me as such an idiot.

Once I get to the restaurant, Edward clearly hasn't arrived yet. He isn't anywhere and there are a few empty, vacant tables. I choose the one closest to the window and sit, trying to calm my breathing down. I feel so nervous I'm on the verge of vomiting. Butterflies are infecting my stomach and I can't even sit still while I wait for him.

In order to distract myself, I look around the Thai restaurant. It looks like an intimate, even homely place, for two people to sit down and get to know each other better. The tables are covered in white linen cloth, and on mine as well as all the others, there is a white candle on the table, lit and flickering, providing a soft glow of light. It's a casual place to eat, yet a bit non-casual also.

Five minutes goes by until that door opens and Edward enters with a wine bottle in one hand, and flowers in the other. He's wearing a long-sleeved black sweater and dark blue denim jeans, and although I prefer him in his cop uniform for some reason, he still looks amazing. It's obvious he just took a shower before he came here to meet me; His hair is dark and still damp with water. He grins broadly at me once he spots me and my heart races like an uncontrollable beast in my chest.

"Bella," he says breathlessly once he reaches me, and I stand up from my chair.

The way he says my name is just intoxicating. _Bel-la_. It rolls off his tongue.

He leans over and gives me a lingering kiss on my cheek. He smells freshly showered, and the cologne he has doused on is a nice, masculine scent. The kiss is felt right down to my toes in my heels, and the back of my ear lobes tingle with heat.

"You look amazing," he adds, his eyes inspecting my dress admiringly. "I feel like such a lucky man to be having dinner with you tonight."

"Thank you," I whisper, feeling embarrassed. It isn't everyday that a man bothers to compliment me. "You look great yourself." I let my eyes fall on the bouquet of red roses he is holding and he thrusts it out to me. "And you brought me flowers, too," I add happily. "Thank you." I accept them from him shyly, taking a whiff of them with my nose. They smell beautiful, fresh, and fragrant. "No man has ever brought me flowers before. It's thoughtful of you."

"Really? No one has ever brought you flowers?" He sounds surprised and slightly disbelieving. "Well, I'm pleased to be the first. Hopefully this will be the first of many times that I get the chance to buy you them."

He's so romantic. He seems to know all the right things to say, it seems to come to him easily tonight; while I'm almost speechless and unsure.

I sit down and place the flowers near me on the table. My hands are shaking with nerves, so I deliberately fold them together in my lap under the table where he can't notice them.

"And you also brought red wine," I observe, pleased, as he sets it on the table and pulls out the chair for himself. I'm not much of a drinker, but I know I could sure use a few glasses of the stuff to ease my nerves a bit.

"I did," he admits, once he sits. "I figured it doesn't count as a real date unless there's wine."

"Great thinking," I tell him happily. "They don't serve alcohol here, just food."

"Have you eaten here before?"

"Once with my room-mate Alice. They serve _really_ good Thai food here."

"Well, that's good, because I'm starving," he says, smiling. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

I frown at him with concern. "Was it a busy day for you with work?"

"Not as it usually is, no. My job can be very demanding. The hours are unpredictable. Sometimes I don't even have enough time to eat anything."

"Well, I recommend the chicken cashew nut dish they have here. I had it with Alice when we came here. It's very... filling. Roasted cashew nuts, honey and garlic. Sweet soy sauce. Chicken. It's great."

"You're making me even more hungry just by the sound of it. You're lucky I'm not a cannibal, otherwise I might just very well end up eating you if we have to wait too long."

I laugh apologetically and, just to our luck, a waiter comes over to ask for our orders. Edward orders the chicken cashew nut, as I just suggested, and I do the same. He also asks for a bucket of ice for the wine and some glasses. Once the waiter comes back with the ice bucket and two wine glasses, Edward stands and attempts to pop open the cork on the wine bottle. It makes such a loud noise that people turn in their seats to look over at us in alarm, and I can't help laughing at how noisy we're being. Edward's answering smile to my laughter is gorgeously mischievous.

"Finally it's open," he says, and he pours the both of us a glass.

I'm about to take a sip, when he stops me by raising his wine glass in the air.

"I propose a toast," he begins, meeting my eyes intently. "A thank you to fortune for letting us both end up going to a lousy, terrible heavy metal nightclub together and making us meet. And, hopefully, have more dates with each other for weeks and weeks to come."

"Hear, hear," I mutter, and I lean over in my seat to _chink_ my glass against his.

We take a sip out of our glasses at the same time, and my mouth aches from smiling so hard. The wine is refreshingly fruity and strong. I can't help but pray a few more glasses and I'll be drunk and losing all inhibitions so I won't feel so anxious around him. I can tell he is having just as much trouble as I am in not grinning, because his mouth twitches.

"This was a very good selection of red wine you've picked out," I say to him. "Are you a wine-drinking type of man?"

"Actually, I'm more of a beer-man. I only drink wine on special occasions."

"Does this count as a special occasion?" I ask, mostly teasing.

"It does. I think it definitely, _definitely_ does."

An awkward silence finally passes between us, and I hate it. I hate the awkwardness of not knowing what to say next. So I have to think really hard on what I've learned about him so far. Of what I want to know about him.

"How old are you?" I ask bluntly, without even caring whether it's rude or not.

"I'm thirty-one. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." I'm surprised by the age difference, but I try not to let it show. "What astrological sign are you?"

He laughs quietly and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands near his chin. "That's a weird question. I haven't been asked what my astrological sign is before."

"I'm just asking random questions off the top of my head. What sign are you?"

"I'm a... Taurus, I think. What about you?"

"Aries," I say without hesitation. "What is the longest relationship you've ever been in?"

He looks almost embarrassed and uncomfortable by that question. "Can I refuse to answer that?" he asks uncertainly with a grimace.

"Nope, you can't. The longest for me has been one whole year. Now it's your turn. Isn't this what dates are about? Asking stupid questions in order to get to know someone?"

"Well..." Edward takes his hands away from his mouth and reaches out for his glass of wine. He takes a slow sip, and I'm pretty sure he's almost buying his time. Then he sighs heavily and licks his lips. Yet again, I'm ridiculously fascinated by his mouth. He just has a very delicious mouth. "I admit, although it doesn't make me sound too good... that I have never been in a relationship before."

It really isn't the answer I'm expecting. I feel my jaw hit the floor. "Really? Never? How is that possible?"

"There has been a few women I've been interested in, but it didn't work out. The attraction was more one-sided, where I was head-over-heels nuts about them, but they never expressed the same sentiment back to me."

"That's hard to believe," I mutter without thinking. "I mean, you're so... nice and handsome. It doesn't make any sense."

He shrugs and says, aloof, "I guess I'm not the type women ordinarily go for."

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm... shy. I have trouble socializing with people sometimes. It was that way ever since I was a kid, in school. The teachers would always try to force me to open up, to break out of my shell, and it just... failed."

Hmm, he's shy? He doesn't seem too shy to me. Plus, he's doing perfectly well right now, impressing me and holding entertaining conversation. How strange.

"Do you date much, despite your self-proclaimed 'shyness'?"

He gives me a rueful smile. "I don't, actually. Sometimes I have... trouble talking to women. But luckily, it seems different with you. I guess it helps when you prepare yourself in advance for the person you're planning on talking to." He hesitates for a moment, as if undecided on whether he should tell me something or not. But then he just goes ahead and says it anyway. "I was interested in this woman once, and she was ten years older than me, I think. But she was unavailable, she was married, and she threatened to get a restraining order out on me if I kept making the moves on her. Do you date much?" he asks me quickly, before I even get the chance to question him further on this woman who apparently threatened him with a restraining order.

"Nope. My last boyfriend- if you could even call him that- was in high school. We dated for a year and he dumped me for another girl."

"You've done it before?" He doesn't even need to elaborate on that to tell me he's talking about my experience in the bedroom. I can't even look him directly in the eyes as I nod slowly.

"Yes, with the guy I was just mentioning about. It was a silly relationship. I don't even know how we survived a year together." Talking about my previous relationship with my ex, Jacob, feels uncomfortable, so I deliberately change subject. "You told me you had a brother?" I ask with interest.

"Yes, that's right." He seems more comfortable talking about his family, than himself. "His name is Jasper, and he's two years younger than me. He's into classic rock music, which was why he suggested going out to that heavy metal nightclub. Do you have any siblings yourself?"

"I don't, but often, I wish I did. I'm an only child."

"What are your parents like?"

"Well, my mother and father got divorced when I was fourteen, and my mom apparently had an affair on my dad with this other man, Phil, and she's still with him now. I lived with my father before I moved out to the dorm where I'm staying in now, for college. And my dad, he has remained single. What about your parent's? Still together, or have they followed the divorce trend?"

Edward looks silently thoughtful. He rubs around his chin with his fingertips pensively.

"I was adopted when I was around... four-years-old, I think. I don't remember my real family. I guess I was too young to remember anything about my real mother and father. But the ones who adopted me, they're wonderful. They're still together, and they have been married for thirty-three years now. I consider them my true family."

"Oh. Have you ever been interested in finding out about your birth family? I mean, your biological mom and dad?"

"I found out about them four years ago. Apparently they're both dead. They were murdered when I was a kid while I was there in the room- or some shit like that. It was why I went into foster care." Telling me this, he hardly seems bothered at all. There's no sadness in his tone. He just sounds casual, as if we're talking little more than the weather, and not personal things.

"Wow, I'm sorry. That must be hard."

"As I said, I don't remember anything. I was four. You can't miss those you don't have any memories of, can you?"

"Hmmm, I guess that's true. Still, it must have been hard to hear."

"Don't get me wrong: I would have loved to meet them and at least understand some of my true heritage. But they're gone, so I don't see any point of dwelling on it."

He has a very interesting way of looking at it: I wasn't so sure I would be so blasé about everything. But I can't deny it's wonderful to be getting to know each other, for real.

Our food finally arrives.

**Sorry if this was boring/uneventful. I hope it wasn't a disappointment. I promise next chapter will be more eventful, and not as late either. Thank you, hope you're all well x Sorry if it was utter crap :/**


	5. Edgy

_**I want to thank you all so much. I hope you enjoy this one ;) Thank you!**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Five<strong>_

There is a silence between us while we eat our chicken, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable or awkward at all. I feel as if I've learned a lot more about him now and, mostly, I like everything I have heard so far. All in all, everything seems to be going good. But then now and then I'll look up from my plate of food and find Edward staring at me while he chews contemplatively. I have no idea why he's staring at me the way he is, and it makes me feel embarrassed.

"Why are you staring at me?" I ask, a little nervously. "Do I have food on my face or something? Am I eating like an unattractive pig and it's turning you off right now?"

He just smiles at me and shakes his head.

"Seriously? What?"

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, with a short laugh. "I just can't seem to stop staring at you. It isn't that you have food on your face at all, or the way your eating. That's not it." He runs his eyes very obviously over my bare shoulders in my dress. "I just wonder if that was a good idea, wearing the dress you are..."

I swallow dryly, then reach for my wine glass. "Don't you like it? Is it too much?"

_Oh, God. Am I coming off as too desperate?_

His expression turns suddenly somber as he reaches for his own wine glass. He takes a long sip, as if he's debating how to say it right, then licks his lips and stares at my bare shoulders again and my collar bone. "I just think you look incredibly sexy in that dress." His voice is so low I can hardly hear him. "It makes me feel like... doing bad things to you."

Just like that, I feel a glow of heat hitting me everywhere and I struggle to hold in an anxious laugh. "Bad things, huh?" I breathe curiously. "What kind of bad things?"

"I think you know exactly what bad things I'm talking about, Bella."

"Hmmm, I think I can work out a thing or two. And I'm sure I wouldn't object to them."

His lips quirk up in a half smile. "Do you want to get married?" he throws at me unexpectedly.

I almost choke on the wine I'm throwing down my throat. "Are you asking me?" I say, teasing him a little. I already know he isn't really. That would be way too fast and sudden. I mean, we've only just practically met.

"Of course not. I just mean... when you're a bit older, can you see yourself getting married? Doing the whole family thing?"

No one has ever really asked me that before, and I have never really considered it. "I don't know," I say hesitantly. "It hasn't been something I've thought about. You need a partner to start considering doing all those serious things, and I've been single for quite a while. Maybe if I was in a long-term relationship, I would be thinking about those things, sure. What about you?"

Edward looks just as uncertain as I feel on the topic. "I don't know myself." He smiles at me and shrugs. "I guess the idea appeals to me. I see how my parents are, and I feel as if I want that for myself too one day. It's just a matter of finding the right person and, up until now, I haven't had much luck with it all."

_Was he saying that I'm the right person for him? But we hardly know each other..._

I still find it hard to believe that he hasn't been in a relationship before. He's certainly charming enough, and he seems to have his life well in order. He has a good job that he seems to enjoy, and he's definitely winning me over and impressing me tonight. But then what he mentioned so casually, about an older woman who threatened to put a restraining order out on him comes back to me. I know it isn't my business, but I find myself wanting to know why.

"Tell me about this older woman you liked?" I ask him gently. I don't want him to feel as if I'm pressuring him to tell me all the dirty, little details.

"I really liked her, and I think she was the first woman I was ever seriously interested in. We would sometimes get coffee together and talk, although she had made it very clear on me that she was married." He grimaces in embarrassment. "I guess I came off as a little too aggressive in my feelings for her. I just had this... stupid idea that someday she would leave her husband for me, because she seemed as if she was interested in me as well. But... apparently not."

"So she practically lead you on, then threatened you with a restraining order?"

"Well, yeah, that was pretty much it. I saw her downtown at the grocery store and her husband must have been there, or something. When I approached her and tried to talk to her, she had her back up instantly and threatened to put an order out on me if I went near her again. I think she was just covering her tracks though, and she panicked that her husband would see us together. So that was that, and I never bothered seeing her again." He leans over closer to the table and slides his hand across, touching one of mine. "But that was in the past, and we all do stupid things sometimes." He strokes my knuckles with his thumb and stares at me, appearing somewhat guilty. "I'm no saint, after all."

Him saying that makes me laugh for some reason. "I don't think anyone is a saint. We all do some pretty stupid things."

He nods and curls his hand around mine, gripping it strongly.

"Where do you live?" he asks me.

"Five minutes near the college building. But I have a room-mate, my best friend Alice, and I don't think you'd want to meet her. She can be... scary sometimes. She'll be forcing questions down your throat and interrogating you. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering where we go after this? Do you want to go to my place again?"

Oh, he's thinking of leaving already. "Sure," I shrug. "Sounds good."

"Are you done with eating?"

"Yep."

I get up from the chair nervously, take my flowers he brought me, and he grabs the bottle of wine. He pays for my dinner, even though I offer, and then we head out on the street together. I find myself regretting wearing just a dress. It has gotten colder outside as the night progressed and I'm shivering. I also find it hard to walk in my heels, but hopefully Edward won't think I look like an idiot. He must see me shivering, because without a word he pulls off his sweater and hands it to me. Grinning like a fool, I slip it on and instantly I feel tons better. His body heat is trapped in the fabric nicely.

"You sure you won't be too cold now that I've taken your sweater?" I ask him worriedly. He's just wearing a baby blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He just shrugs and steps back to look me over thoroughly. He looks as if he loves what he sees. "No, I'm good, but I think you should definitely wear my clothes all the time," he says appreciatively. "Then again, it makes me tempted to do the bad things I mentioned previously."

"Well, once we get to your place, who knows? Maybe I'll let you do those bad things."

"Cock tease," he mutters under his breath playfully.

I whack him on his chest with my elbow. "Hardly. I'm the very last person anyone would consider a cock tease."

"Well, I don't know about that."

I laugh, puzzled, and then we start walking towards where he lives. I feel oddly... pleased wearing his sweater and he wraps his arm around my waist while we walk down the street together. I feel a bit nervous when he leans down and kisses the top of my head, inhaling in my skin and hair.

"You smell so good, Bella."

"Thanks," I mutter, feeling ridiculously shy. For some reason I find it hard to look directly at him, so I don't bother. "Your sweater feels nice and snug on me."

"You look sexy in it, too."

_Sexy? Me? As if!_

"You're just saying that to charm me..." I whisper.

"No, not at all." He puts his hand under my chin and turns my head to look at him. There's something there soft in his eyes for me as he peers into mine intently. "I find you really, really sexy. Even with everything you do, like eating."

I shrug uncomfortably under his gaze, and then he leans his face in closer to mine, until I feel his lips touching mine gently. I can hardly believe my luck. Where did this incredibly sweet man come from? Already, he makes me feel secure and not so awkward with myself. He kisses me for a good two seconds, then pulls back to stare at me, appraising me closely.

"If I could and if it wasn't illegal, I would try fucking you out here on the sidewalk."

I laugh outright, stunned by his unexpected words. But if anything, it only makes me like him even more. It's nice to be wanted.

Reaching up, I grab the side of his face in my hands, coercing him down to me again. And then, we're off kissing again.

He's so good at it, although he says he hasn't had any luck with women. I still find it so hard to believe.

When we both pull back from kissing, I'm not the only one breathing hard and shallowly. His eyes burn into mine and he looks aching with desire to have sex with me. "Can I ask you something?" he begins, sounding a little anxious. "It's okay if it's too soon, or if you're not interested."

"What is it?" I ask breathlessly. I'm all ears.

"I know we've only just met really, but I want to know if you'll be with me?" I'm shocked by the intensity of his expression and the look in his eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend? I've always thought that's how two people really get to know each other anyway? By dating?"

My heart surges happily and I feel like jumping with joy. How stupid of me. "Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

"Really?" He sounds full of disbelief. "You'll be my girl?"

"Yes," I laugh shakily. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, I've never had a girlfriend before," he mutters, licking his lips. I find it hard not to stare at his tongue. "But this is great, thank you," he says softly, and he leans in to kiss me again, cradling my face with his hand. Then he must get tired of my lips, because he leans down and starts kissing and nipping the lining of my throat. It's heaven, and I feel awfully tempted to tear his clothes off, even though we're in public.

But then it happens...

Since we're not exactly looking where we're going and he's having fun kissing my neck, we ram straight into someone on the sidewalk and Edward pulls back abruptly to stare the person down. It's just a young teenager, about sixteen or so, wearing a baseball cap and sucking diet coke through a straw. But when I peer up at Edward's face, his desire has completely dissipated and he's full-on glaring at the poor kid.

"Are you blind?" he suddenly demands harshly at the boy. "Why don't you watch where the fuck you're going?"

The boy shrugs apologetically. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Yeah, well. You should be sorry, shouldn't you?" Edward's voice rises and I'm stunned by the anger in his voice. "What is with kids of this generation today? They're always so fucking rude!"

"Calm down," I laugh nervously, rubbing his back in a hopefully placating way. I don't see why he's so mad. "It was just an accident. Besides, the kid said he was sorry!"

"Sorry, my ass," he grumbles, running his hand through his hair agitatedly while holding the bottle of wine tucked under one arm. "He isn't truly sorry, the little shit."

He stares ahead of me at the boy walking down the street, and there is full on rage building in his eyes. Never would I want to get into Edward's bad books. He seems suddenly so hot-headed. He never seemed that way before. I never would have taken him for the type.

"Wow, you get angry pretty quickly, don't you?" I remark lightly.

Taking in a deep breath, he finally brings his eyes down to me and his expression softens. He sighs deeply. "I'm sorry," he says gently. He reaches up and runs his forefinger down the side of my cheek. "I'm just a little edgy from work today and you looking so sexy isn't helping any. I hope this hasn't ruined everything?"

"No, it hasn't, and it's fine," I assure him quickly. _But wow._

**_Sorry if this was a total disappointment? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks so much for being so sweet! xx There will also be a HEA (possibly) so no need to worry too much!_**


	6. Can't Get Enough

_**Hey there,**_

_**I want to thank you all so much for being so kind. I still can't believe the Twilight movies are over. :( I miss them lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm so anxious about it though. Please be kind :) And to answer some questions on how dark Edward will go, it'll be a gradually building thing. I don't want him to get completely obsessed and crazy over Bella lol- he'll be somewhat controlling and jealous (which will happen soon). But as for now, he's keeping himself in control lol. Thank you for being so kind with your reviews and the alerts I have received on the story. It makes my day! x**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Six<strong>_

We get inside his apartment and this uncomfortable feeling doesn't leave me.

It's just in the way Edward got so quickly angry towards that kid tonight. I didn't like it. I don't like aggressive men. Well, sometimes I do, but not a man being aggressive in an unjustifiable way. The kid had apologized, and it seemed to be a sincere accident. Edward's reaction to it, I felt, was way over-the-top. It's sort of a turn-off, but not enough to make me completely stop liking him. I still find him sexy, in a strange and charmingly shy way. Tonight seemed like it went really well, and we got to know each other more. I like most things I've learned about him.

I just didn't like the way he reacted to the kid out on the street.

"Shall we finish the bottle of red wine?" he asks from inside his kitchen. It's almost hard for me to act normal, but I manage it with some effort.

"Yeah, we should. The wine is great."

I mustn't be as convincing as I thought, because as he comes into the living room holding two glasses of wine, he pauses uncertainly near me. "Is something wrong, Bella?" he asks apprehensively. "Are you having seconds thoughts? Do you want me to take you home?"

"Of course not." I take the wine glass from him and take a sip. "Tonight has been... great. I'm more than happy to come back here with you."

"Are you sure?" He doesn't sound as if he believes me at all. "You seem... unhappy about something? What's on your mind?"

I suppose honesty really is the only good way to go. I sink down on his couch, resting my glass of wine on my knee. He sits down next to me slowly and I see his eyes linger on my bare legs before they take in my face nervously.

"I'll be honest with you, because I think it's fair," I begin hesitantly.

"Please do," Edward says softly, leaning forward to set his glass on the table on a coaster. "I would expect nothing more. I've always valued honesty more than anything." He sits back, positioning himself on the couch so he's looking directly at me, crossing his arms over his chest. I find it hard to look at him, so I stare down at the red liquid in my glass. My fingers fidget with the stem of the glass; I can't stop them.

"I feel as if I really like you, Edward. I find you sexy and charming, and I meant what I said, in that I'd love to be a girlfriend to you."

I peek up at his face quickly to gauge his expression. He's frozen and rigid, as if almost waiting for a blow to hit him. "..._But_?" he prompts quietly, disappointment in his voice.

"_But_ I don't like angry or overly aggressive men," I finish quickly. "And just a few minutes ago, when that boy bumped into us out on the street, you got angry pretty quickly? If you're going to always be like that, then... I can't say I'll want to be with you. I know that's probably brutally honest of me and I don't mean to hurt you, but I just want to make it clear where my feelings stand on that."

Edward runs a hand through his hair and looks away from me for a moment thoughtfully. Fortunately he doesn't seem turned off by my brutal honesty at all. He seems almost... sympathetic to what I'm saying.

He clears his throat, then says, "Bella, I agree completely and I understand. My behavior out there was terrible, and it isn't... brutal of you to say that. In fact, I'm glad you're being forthcoming and that you're not afraid to tell me how you truly feel." He smiles at me and his eyes soften.

His reaction takes a load off my back. Tame, no sudden anger. "Really? You're glad?" I ask, surprised.

"I am." His expression is nothing but sincere. "I know how I reacted out there was terrible, and I apologize again. And usually, I'm not so easily angered. I'm just putting a lot of pressure on myself, in a sense, and I want this to go right."

"Why are you putting pressure on yourself?"

He tries to stifle a smile as he stares deeply in my eyes. "Because I really like you, and I've never felt this way before," he says, a bit shyly. He rests his chin on his hand- to cover his mouth, I think. "I've never felt this intensely about somebody before and I suppose, I'm putting added pressure onto myself. I want to say and do the right things. I want you to like me."

I feel warmth infect me from head to toe at his sweet confession. Come to think of it, he has actually been trying so hard; Buying me flowers and wine, complimenting me. Being overly charming and flirtatious. But how could I not find myself liking him?

Well, this certainly explains a lot. "But I already do find myself liking you," I tell him, trying not to smile myself, "So the pressure you're putting on yourself is kind of unnecessary."

"So... what you're basically saying is that I don't need to try so hard?"

"Exactly, that's exactly what I'm saying. Just be yourself." _If only it was that easy..._ Even I find it hard to be myself around him.

"Okay then. Let's both be ourselves." He reaches over to get his glass of wine and takes a long sip before setting it back down on the coaster. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Seriously?" I laugh. "You're asking me such a mundane question like that?"

"Well, you did say that's what dates are all about, didn't you? Asking stupid questions in order to get to know the other person?" It's true, and he remembered me telling him that.

"I did say that. And my favorite movie is... Romeo and Juliet. The version with Leo in it. What's yours?"

"I like any old horror movie," he shrugs. "I like blood and guts and feeling scared. What's your favorite color?"

"I don't really have one. It changes from day-to-day. What's yours?"

"Red. What do you like to do for fun?"

"Reading and... hanging out with my roomy Alice. Studying. What do you like to do?"

"I like playing the piano. And listening to instrumental music."

"You play piano?" How impressive. I love a man who knows how to play musical instruments. "Do you play it well?"

"I guess I'm alright at it," Edward shrugs nonchalantly. "My father taught me how to play. First time, I was... seven and I enjoyed it straight up. He taught me it as a way to relieve emotions."

"Do you have your own personal piano here?" I ask curiously, looking around the room. I want to hear him play.

"Unfortunately, I don't. The pianos at my parents house, but sometime, if you ever want to meet them, I can try to play you something?"

"I'd love that."

"I'm sure I can even make up a song just for you," he says, and he winks at me.

_And he said he was putting added pressure onto himself to impress me... As if he needed to. He already is impressing with every single extra thing I learn about him. He's perfection._

"I'd love to hear you play something specially written for me. I love that you know how to play the piano."

And then it seems we've run out of things to talk about... We just gaze at each other, neither one of us evidently sure of what to say next. Desire for this fascinating man overcomes me, so much so that I want to scoot over on his couch to break the distance between us. I'm almost craving to touch him. To run my hands through his hair. To have his naked body covering mine.

"Now what do we talk about, Bella?" Edward asks light-heartedly, breaking the ice, I think. "What happens now?"

In a strategic move, I lean forward and sit my glass of wine down on the table. Then I shift closer to him on the sofa, breaking the distance between us once and for all until one of my knees are touching his thigh. Deliberately I place a hand on his knee and he peers down at it briefly before returning his eyes to mine again.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he asks, his voice low. Seductive to my ears and thrilling.

I pretend to think it through seriously, biting my lip. "Maybe I am," I whisper, "Is it working?"

"I finally brought some," he breathes, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Brought some what?"

"Condoms," he confesses with a grimace. "I hope that doesn't sound too assuming. Or like I'm expecting it to happen."

"No, I think that's very smart of you."

Reaching up slowly, I smooth the hair out of his forehead, then lean in towards him. I catch him off-guard by planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, and he gives out a shudder. I love that I can make him react like that. And then it's my turn to be caught by surprise, when he leans back and his mouth finds my legs.

I have to bite down on my lip to stifle my delight when he starts kissing me, sending hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing up and down my legs, my knees. I have always been self-conscious about my legs even, but he seems to like them. Or at least enjoys having his mouth on them.

He runs his hands down over my calves gently and I fall backwards against the sofa as he pulls my legs up in the air slightly over his head, nuzzling his face into the upper part of my thighs. My ankles dig into his lower back muscles, it's the most erotic thing a man has ever done to me before, and I feel instantly hot all over, as he starts using his teeth and tongue, nipping me and circling his tongue around my skin.

"God, you're so sexy," he chuckles into my skin. "I feel like I can't even get enough of you."

I laugh nervously, embarrassed yet at the same time incredibly aroused and flattered by his words.

I'm panting and loving the attention as I reach down and twine my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He makes a deep noise into my thigh, a bit like a moan, and it's incredibly sexy.

"Let's go to your bed," I beg quietly, trying not to make too much noise.

"I like having you right here trapped underneath me," he says, his voice muffled in my skin. He makes a deep-throated growling noise that gets me hot and bothered a treat. "Makes me feel in charge and powerful for once."

"But I think your bed would be more suitable though, wouldn't you?"

Finally, the torture on my legs ends as he lifts his head from my thighs to look at me. There's frantic need in his eyes for me and his hair is all messy and sticking on end from me fisting it uncontrollably. The look about him is a big turn-on and suddenly going into his bedroom really doesn't matter at all.

"Oh, screw the bed," I surrender breathlessly.

He climbs down over me on the sofa and I'm very relieved I'm not the only one panting loudly. He stares at me for a moment, running his tongue over his lips, and then he pulls the neck of his sweater that I'm wearing down vigorously, stretching the material to get at my breasts. He starts kissing the swell of my breasts and it's heaven. I have never felt so attracted physically to a man before. All I know is that we certainly work well together when it comes to attraction and kissing. The chemistry seems to be there, and I've heard it's important.

"Where?" I moan desperately, my hands latching onto the strands of his hair again. He groans loudly and buries his face into my breasts, nuzzling them with his nose and using his teeth.

"Where, what?"

"Where are your condoms? Please..."

I whimper at the sudden loss of contact as he climbs off me and gets to his feet. He disappears for a moment, then comes back to me urgently where I lay with the box of condoms in his hand. A few buttons on his shirt have come undone from rolling around on me on the couch, and the slather of skin I see is delicious.

"You want to do this?" he asks hoarsely, tearing the box open.

"Hell yes," I laugh joyfully, and it's the only thing I know.

**Sorry if this was terrible :/ I'd love to hear what you think so far? Please review and let me know your thoughts, as I don't know if I'm failing miserably at making this suspenseful or interesting enough. Thank you! **


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